


Collaboration

by duckgirlie



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-27 00:04:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/655856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckgirlie/pseuds/duckgirlie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nine years after walking out on his band, Dave Cook's nearly given up on getting his career back. But when American Idol needs a new coronation song it just might be his second chance. There's just one problem; Dave hasn't written a note in years. An accidental encounter with music student turned accountant David Archuleta leads to collaboration, but can both of them get past their issues in time to finish the job?</p><p>A Music & Lyrics AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collaboration

**Author's Note:**

> Also contains brief references to past Cook/Neal and Archie/Simon

>   
> _"Everybody's heard of Midwest Kings, whose millions of album sales and shelves full of awards have guaranteed them a place in rock history. There's probably not a music fan in America who couldn't name any one of the band's members. But how many people remember the original line-up? Andy Skib wasn't always behind the mic, he stepped up after the original frontman left in 2004 in what remains one of modern music's most debated and rumored splits. And while the band went onto bigger and better things, whatever happened to Dave Cook?"_
> 
> "Voiceover, VH1's I <3 2004" (2013)

Dave Cook was barely out of the VH1 studio before he flicked his phone open and dialed.

_"MJ Agency, how may I help you?"_

"Michael, I know you don't have a secretary, and you know this is me calling you. Let's not lie to ourselves, alright?"

_"You're in a mood."_

Dave glared at his phone. "Recounting the most painful moments of my professional and personal life for lightweight entertainment will do that ."

" _Is this when you give out to me?"_

"Michael..."

Michael cut him off. _"In my defense, you wouldn't have done it if I'd told you, and you probably should have guessed that a nostalgia show discussing the first few years of the 2000s was going to mention that whole..."_

"Debacle?" Dave suggested.

_"Debacle, yes. And you need the money."_

"Don't you mean _you_ need the money?"

_"Frankly, Dave, we both need the money. But at least I have a wife and alternative streams of income."_

"I know, I know." Dave paused at the edge of the sidewalk and started trying to flag down a cab.

_"Are you okay?"_

"I'm fine. I just really need a drink after that."

Mike said, _"I'll meet you at your place. I'll bring beer."_

"That wasn't an invi..." 

But Michael had already hung up. Dave signed heavily and climbed into his cab, shoving his earbuds in and glaring out the window as they pulled into traffic.

Michael was already on his sofa by the time he arrived home.

Dave scowled. "I knew I'd regret giving you a key."

Mike held up his hands apologetically and pointed at the beer on the table. "I come bearing a peace offering."

Dave glared at him and grabbed a bottle, popping it open on the countertop when he couldn't find his bottle opener. 

"I suppose I can forgive you just this once."

He threw himself down on the sofa and necked down half the bottle before saying anything else.

After a while, Mike asked,"How bad was it?"

"Horrible. Started out just generic remembering of other stuff, and then all that _"'Abdication' was amazing, and don't you just wish you hadn't left?_ " Dave finished his beer and grabbed another one. "And they kept trying to get me to say something about why I left, which just wasn't happening, ever, so the director was getting annoyed, and I was getting annoyed, and it was just a very tense situation. I have no idea how much of me they'll actually use."

"Well, at least we get paid either way. If I had to rely on you being cheerful all the time, we'd be fucked."

Dave gestured at the pile of beer on the table. "Tell me you've got something better lined up, or I may have to drink all of this by myself."

"I have something better lined up."

"Hallelujah." Dave jumped to his feet and wandered into the kitchen, pulling a box of cereal off the shelf and shoving handfuls into his mouth.

"You know _American Idol_?"

"No, Michael, I have no idea what _American Idol_ is."

Mike frowned."You're not helping."

"I'm sorry, tell me all about _American Idol_."

Before Michael could start, Dave's door buzzer rang and he ran over to answer.

"What is it, Danny?"

"Mr Cook? There's a guy down here for you."

"I'm afraid I'll need more details then that." Cook said.

"His name's David? Something about plants and fish?"

"Fine, send him up."

Michael gave him a strange look. "You pay someone to do your plants and fish?"

"I do."

"Why do you even have plants and fish if you can't manage them by yourself?" Michael asked.

"Because a young man called Jack told me that not having anything alive in my apartment made me look like a sociopath."

"A young man called Jack?"

"His name might have been Jack. But I thought calling him 'some random twink from Metro' would make me seem like a douchebag." Dave said.

"Good call." 

When the doorbell rang, Dave opened it to find a short young man clutching an over-large ring binder to his chest and smiling nervously.

"Hi. I'm David Archuleta."

Dave stood aside to let him in. "I'm also David."

"Oh, cool! So, I'm really sorry to surprise you, but Jason was supposed to tell you that I'd be doing your plants and stuff for a while, because people are on holiday but he didn't really plan it in advance, so I said I'd help him out."

David hung his jacket neatly on the hook by the door, before laying his binder carefully on the table and starting to leaf through it.

"Anyway, Jason gave me really detailed instructions, so you don't need to be worried that I'm going to kill your plants or your fish or anything. Except that I can't remember whether he filed you under 'D' for David or 'C' for Cook and he doesn't always even file people under their names so you might be almost anywhere..."

Dave felt a bit bad about it, but he cut him off.

"Cool, cool. I'll just be over here. The stuff is in the kitchen, when you find what you'll be doing."

The other David smiled brightly and went back to searching the binder as Dave went back to Michael in the study.

"So, _American Idol_."

"Yes. So, apparently someone there is a big fan of yours."

"You mean a fan of the band," Dave said.

"No, a fan of _yours_. And as soon as plant-boy is done, we're going to go meet with them."

"What? Why?"

"When you ask me questions like that, it makes me think you don't trust me. And you do trust me." Mike said, huffily. 

Dave was about to answer when a squeal emerged from the other room.

Inside the living room, the other David was soaked with water and trying his best to put the lid back on one of the fish tanks.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! When I pulled the lid off to feed them the water all splashed out!"

"Yeah, the seal on that one tends to get a little vacuumy. That should have been in the notes."

"I'm so sorry! I'll totally pay, if you need to like, replace the carpets or something. But I think I have to go, because I can't really stay wet all day, I might get like, sick or something. But I'll be back tomorrow, to, um, finish everything, okay? Sorry!"

David grabbed his jacket and binder and ran out the door, leaving Dave staring after him. Michael looked at him thoughtfully for a second.

"That was weird."

"Yeah."

"So." Michael rubbed his hands together. " _Idol_."

– – –

>   
> _So after the show, I totally hung around the stage door hoping they'd come out. There were a bunch of us there, and we'd nearly given up, but then Neal came out! He totally looked surprised to see us but he signed all of our stuff and everything! And then right before we were about to leave Dave came out! I can't be sure but he seemed totally drunk and he like, grabbed Neal around the shoulders and whispered a bunch of stuff in his ear and he didn't say anything but it was all like 'sorry ladies but I'm taking him away' and then Neal smiled and totally followed him back inside! IT WAS SO ADORABLE._
> 
> Post by user 'midwestqueen' on Midwest Kings fanforum, (2002)

– – –

They were left waiting inside the _American Idol_ studio long enough that Dave had started to pace back and forth, while Michael lounged in an armchair and flicked through his inbox.

Finally, someone entered and sat down at the desk. Dave found himself almost involuntarily sitting down to face him.

"So, David. I'm John Smith."

"Hello."

"Your agent's filled you in?"

"He hasn't, actually."

Michael jumped in. "I thought it would make more sense to let you do it."

"Fine." The man checked his watch and stood up again. "I'm late, we'll have to walk."

He strode out of the office and Dave and Michael scrambled after him.

"You're familiar with the show?"

"Yeah, of course.."

"Good. We're having an... issue with this year's coronation song," the man said. "The writer has had some kind of personal crisis, and failed to deliver."

"Okay."

"We've already completed the design for the promotional material with the title he had provided us, so we can't use another one of the songs we've been offered. We would like you to write the song for us."

Dave skidded to a halt. "Me? I can't..."

Michael dug an elbow into his ribs. "Yes he can."

The man checked his watch again, and opened the door. "The song will be called 'Way Back in to Love', and we need it by Friday. Thank you."

Dave and Michael suddenly found themselves on the pavement, and Michael flashed Dave a pair of thumbs-up, and refused to let Dave's stony expression annoy him. Dave grabbed him by the arm and dragged him towards a cab.

"I need another drink."

Dave didn't speak until they'd found a suitably dank bar and he had a drink in front of him.

"What the fuck, Michael?"

"This is a big deal, Dave."

"I don't care how big a deal it is, it's not going to happen."

Michael waved down the server and ordered them some shots.

"Look, can you listen to me for a second?"

Dave just glared at him and downed the first of his shots.

"We need this, Dave. There are more session players every day, and not that many more jobs going. You're doing okay at the moment, with all the 2000s nostalgia stuff going on, but in a couple of years, no one's going to remember that Midwest Kings ever had a different singer."

Dave thunked his forehead down on the table. "Fuck."

"So, unless you're willing to talk to..."

" _Mike_..."

"This is a big deal, Dave. You need to remind people you exist, and there aren't going to be many more chances."

He sighed and pushed another shot towards Dave, hoping he'd begin to see sense. 

Dave took the shot, sighed, and slouched against the back of the booth.

"It's just... You know what happens why I try and write stuff by myself."

Michael made a face. "I'll get you a collaborator."

"I've only ever been able to write with Neal."

"Forget Neal, I've got someone in mind. He's good, very edgy."

Dave gazed desolately at the table and knocked back his third shot. "Fine."

– – –

>   
> _Neal: [waving a beer bottle] So, you guys want to hear the new album? [cheers from audience] Sorry it took so long, but half our songs followed Dave out the door. Fuck 'em though, these are better._
> 
> transcript from fanvideo, Abdication pre-release secret gig.(Posted 2005)

– – –

It didn't take Dave long the next day to start wondering where the fuck Michael had found this guy. He showed up nearly two hours late, looking like he'd slept in a dumpster, and Dave was positive he was high. And yeah, it's not like Dave hadn't had nights like that, but he's pretty sure he always at least showered before any kind of professional meeting.

An hour and three cups of coffee later, they were still on the intro.

"Nah, man. It needs to be like... growlier? Like you're really _angry_ with the song."

Dave raised an eyebrow. "I don't think anger is quite what _Idol_ is looking for."

"Dude, like, no offense? But I've heard your album. I don't think you're really in a position to be saying what anyone is looking for."

"Thanks for that. But I still think that _Idol_ generally goes more for the inspirational/emotive wheelhouse, so let's leave rage out of it for now?"

" _Fine_."

He slouched down on the floor and stared at his coffee. There was a long silence, then the doorbell rang and Dave got up to open it. 

David the plant guy said: "Danny said I could just come up?"

"Of course. And you're dry now."

"Oh, yeah." He laughed nervously, "how's your carpet?"

"Back to its usual self." Dave stood aside to let David in.

"Thanks!" David set the binder on the table and hung his jacket up. "I read it all before I got here, just in case there was anything else I needed to be prepared for."

"Good to know."

On the floor, Butler coughed.

"Sorry, this is David Archuleta. David, this is Butler..."

"Just Butler."

"He's a songwriter." Dave finished.

"Oh, cool! I'll um, leave you guys and get started."

"Everything's in the kitchen."

As David left the room, Butler gazed after him appreciatively.

"Tight."

"Excuse me?"

"I didn't take you for the jailbait type, yeah? Do you need me to like, leave, or anything? I'd hate for you not to get your money's worth."

It took Dave a second to follow him. "What? No! He's here for the plants."

"You need someone else to water your plants?"

"And my fish. Shut up."

Dave sat back down and started strumming out the intro they'd written, as the other David wandered through the apartment.

"No man! I said it needs to be growlier. Drop it down," Butler insisted.

"You do know one of the contestants might be a girl, right? They haven't eliminated the third yet."

Butler threw himself down on the couch and started muttering something about pandering as Dave started again.

"There, that's the problem. The first four bars are fine, but then there's a snag," Dave pointed out.

"Play it again."

Dave did, playing the first few bars, but stopping before he hit the rough patch. He was about to open his mouth to say something else when he stopped. By the window, the other David was humming something as he carefully measured fish food into one of the tanks.

"What was that?"

David froze. "What was what?"

"That thing you just hummed."

"Um, nothing?"

"No, it was..." Dave trailed off and started playing the intro again, switching to what David had hummed after the fourth bar.

"That's good." Dave said.

"That's not the song!" Butler insisted.

"No, but it's interesting. And it's not angry. Do you have anymore?" Dave asked.

"I don't have anything?"

"No, you do. Come on..." Dave strummed the intro again, looking at David expectantly as he finished.

"Um, sorry?"

"Look dude. If you don't want my help, I don't have to be here, alright? I have like, way cooler people to be writing with."

With that Butler stomped out of the apartment.

"Gosh, I'm _so_ sorry! Do you want me to go get him back?" David was already halfway to the door before Dave stopped him.

"Forget him, he probably has to go sleep off a meth binge anyway. What I've love is for you to come over here and help me with my song."

"I'm not a songwriter, I'm an accountant."

David disappeared into the kitchen to wash his hands, and Dave could hear him mumbling something else as he cleaned up. He took a deep breath.

"You know the band Midwest Kings?"

"Yeah, doesn't everyone? I mean, I don't listen to them much, but my roommates are huge fans, though they're always arguing over whether they were better when the other guy was still..."

He trailed off, looking at Dave. 

"You're _that_ David Cook... I can't believe I didn't put that together until now."

"Doesn't matter, they're common names. But I'd like if you could just help me throw some ideas around."

David still looked slightly panicked.

"Please?" Dave asked again.

"I have to get back to work. I mean, this is work, but really, I work for Jason in like, business-stuff, and even though people are away and I'm helping him with plants and stuff I still have accounts to do, and I'm really sorry, Mr. Cook, but I have to leave."

Dave tried once more as he pulled his jacket on.

"Look, just think about it, okay? I'll be here pretty much constantly, because the song is for _American Idol_ and it's coming up soon. Or if you want a laugh, I'm playing at the Hilton in Hollywood tonight."

"Yeah, um, I'm sorry? Bye!"

– – –

>   
> _Forget what you might know about Midwest Kings based on their earlier albums. With this record they take their place alongside The Ramones and Nirvana as one of the great American rock bands._
> 
> Review of 'Abdication', Rolling Stone (2005).

– – –

David pulled his jacket off as he entered his apartment, smiling at his roommates.

"Hey guys, how was your day?"

Brooke smiled. "You know, the usual. The kids were fighting over who should get eliminated from _American Idol_ , and they argued right through their time-out, and I had to tell their mother... but it was fine. What about yours? You look stressed."

"Nah, it was fine." He wandered into the kitchen to make a sandwich. "Though something weird happened. You know that band you like, Midwest Kings? I was covering today, and I had to do David Cook's fish..."

He didn't get to finish the sentence before Carly and Brooke ran into the kitchen after him.

"What?!" they shrieked.

"Yeah, weird, right? He actually asked me to come see him perform tonight, but I..."

He was cut off again as they ran out of the room, but it didn't take long before they screamed for him to follow.

Inside Carly's room, the two women were searching through a huge pile of t-shirts on the bed.

"Um, what are you doing?"

"David, some woman getting her first tattoo drooled all over me today. I can't wear this." Carly yanked off her shirt and pulled on another one. 

"Where are we going?"

"You're taking us to see David Cook." Brooke said.

"I am?"

"You can't be going by yourself," Carly pointed out. "You barely know who he is."

Brooke had found a t-shirt and was carefully sewing one of the seams back together as Carly pulled off the first shirt and kept digging through the pile of fabric until she emerged triumphant.

"I thought I'd run out of old shirts!"

"Are they all Midwest Kings shirts?" David asked.

"No, only about... nine of them, I think. But most of them are more recent, and I had to find one that had Dave on it."

In a few minutes, both women were ready, both wearing dark jeans and faded, washed-thin band t-shirts. David only just managed to escape their attempts to dress him up, and before he knew it, they were all piled into Brooke's car.

Outside the Hilton, David made one last attempt to dissuade them before they dragged him inside, past a large banner reading 'Lincoln High Class of 2003 Reunion!'. On the stage in the ballroom, David Cook was dressed in a button-down and a vest, playing a semi-acoustic guitar and smiling at the audience, which seemed to be composed mainly of women Carly and Brooke's age swaying back and forth.

When the next song started, they squealed and clutched each other's arms.

"He's playing 'Meaningless Kiss'!" Brooke sighed.

"I lost my virginity to this song," Carly said, pulling Brooke forward into the crowd of women.

David watched his roommates press forward to the stage, and sat down at one of the tables in the back of the room.

"Not a fan?" A woman at the table smiled at David.

"I don't know? I mean, I don't really listen much, but I like him."

"I was always more of an 'N Sync girl, to be honest. But Suzy's head of the entertainment committee, and she just _loves_ him. I think she cried for maybe three days when he left the band."

"Wow. That's um, kind of scary?" David had no idea what the woman was talking about, but figured smiling and nodding would be easier then asking questions.

"I know, right? I mean, she didn't even believe he was gay. Even _I_ knew that."

David didn’t know that. "Um, that's a bit silly."

"Totally."

The woman finished her wine and looked around the room again. "So, I don't recognise you from school, who are you here with?"

"Oh." David glanced down at the table, embarrassed. "I’m not from the school? I actually, um, know him." He gestured at the stage.

Her eyes widened for a moment, before a knowing look flashed across her face. "Oh... _Oh_."

She leaned forward to pat him on the arm. "Good for you."

It took David a second to realise what she was talking about. "Oh gosh, I didn't mean..." he spluttered.

"Don't worry honey, I won't tell anyone."

She got to her feet and wandered from the table, winking at him as she turned away.

His face was bright red as he watched the rest of the song. He hadn't been lying when he'd said he wasn't that familiar with the band, but he found he recognised most of what Dave was playing, probably from the albums being on in the apartment. It wasn't really his type of music, but he was enjoying it. On stage, Dave was leaning in close to the audience as he finished the set, and after he strummed out the last chords on the final song he bowed deeply and raised his hat to the crowd.

David got to his feet, hoping it wouldn't take long to locate Carly and Brooke, and that he could make it out of the ballroom before anything else embarrassing happened. Luckily, they rushed over and threw their arms around him.

Brooke detached first. "Thank you!!"

"David, that was so amazing! I nearly got to touch him." Carly stood back , still bouncing slightly in her excitement.

"That's great guys. I'm glad you both enjoyed yourselves, but can we leave?"

Brooke said, "Don't you want to wait and see him? I mean, he asked you and everything." Brooke asked.

"No, I'll um, see him tomorrow, for the fish? He's probably going to be really busy now, so I don't want to get in his way."

He turned them around towards the door, but only managed a couple of steps before he crashed into someone. Taking a step back, he realised it was Dave. 

That was not good.

"David. You made it!" 

"Um, yeah..." David stumbled slightly when Brooke pinched his side. "Sorry! These are my roommates, Brooke and Carly. This is David..."

"Call me Dave."

"We know who you are!" Brooke squeaked.

"Do you mind if..." Carly dug her camera out of her bag, not even finishing her question before handing it to David and pulling Brooke over next to Dave.

"Michael!" Dave waved down another man as he passed them. "This is the guy."

"The wet fish guy?"

Dave explained, "When Butler was over, David was feeding the fish and watering the plants, and he came up with some really good phrases."

"You're a songwriter?" Michael asked.

"Me? No, I'm an accountant."

"He may be an accountant." Dave agreed, "but I think he might also be a songwriter without his knowing."

"I'm really not a songwriter." David insisted.

"David, take the picture." Brooke reminded him.

"Sorry."

As Carly and Brooke arranged themselves around Dave, Dave said,"Anyway, so I wanted to see if David wanted to work with me on the _Idol_ song."

"What about Butler?"

"Mike, we're going to have to talk about why you thought someone who worked with Kesha was a good match for me."

Mike said, "He's very now." Mike said.

" _Kesha_ , Mike. Ke-dollar sign-ha."

Michael turned to David. "You think you can help him with the song?"

David was fumbling with the camera and nearly dropped it. "What? No." 

"Please?" Dave begged.

"Can't you write the song on your own?"

David could see Carly and Brooke shake their heads minutely as Dave flinched.

"That's not his strength." Michael said.

"It's really not." Dave agreed. "I tend to fall apart half-way through, it's not pretty."

"David, picture," Carly whispered.

He fumbled with the camera until Michael gently took it off him and snapped a picture.

"Thanks." David said, grabbing Brooke and Carly's sleeves and pulling them towards the door. "I'm really sorry Dave, but I can't help you."

"Just think about it, please? You know where I am if you change your mind. It was nice to meet you, ladies."

"We've met before." Carly said.

"We have?"

"When you played San Diego in 2002? You totally made out with my boyfriend at the after-party."

Dave smiled slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm not. It was really hot."

The end of her sentence was muffled as David, blushing furiously, dragged her through the door.

– – –

>   
> _Conan: So, Dave. That was the title track from your solo album, which is out now, right in the wake of the smash hit from your former bandmates. But no pressure, right?  
>  David: [laughs] I don't like to think about it like that. I'm proud of the album, and I think it can stand on its own._
> 
> Transcript from 'Late Night with Conan O'Brien, (2006.)

– – –

David had barely signed off on the last of Jason's accounts when the buzzer in his office rang.

"What is it, Ramiele?

"Carly's here to see you for lunch."

Gosh, had he forgotten making plans? "Tell her I'll be out in a minute."

He emailed the accounts across to Jason, tried to flatten down his hair in the reflection on the computer screen and ran into the front of the office to meet Carly. Except Carly wasn't there. Instead, leaning against the reception desk and smiling down at Ramiele, was David Cook.

David stopped dead in his tracks. "You're not Carly."

"I'm not, no."

"I'm sorry, David!" Ramiele squeaked, ducking behind her desk.

"Don't get mad at her, it was all my fault," Dave insisted, stepping forward until he was right in front of David. "But I wanted to talk to you again. I've decided I'm not taking no for an answer. "

"Dave, I already said..."

"I know, I know. You're not a songwriter. Except that I googled you, and I found youtube clips. So I know that not only can you play the piano, but you have definitely written stuff before."

"They don't count!" David insisted. "They were like, a minute long."

"Look, David, please." Dave took another step forward and rested his hand on David's shoulder. "If I'm wrong, then I'm wrong, and I'll just fuck off and leave you alone. But I think I'm right, and I really need your help."

"But, but..." David was grasping at straws. "I have to work!" 

"No, it's cool." Jason had just emerged from his office. "You've been working really hard lately. And now the accounts are done, I can get Amanda to cover for a few days. You take some time off, relax."

Dave's face lit up and he threw his fists in the air. "Awesome!"

David barely had a chance to grab his jacket from the coat rack before Dave was dragging him into a cab outside.

Back at the apartment, David waited nervously by the door as Dave shifted his furniture around, moving everything to the sides until there were just two armchairs, facing each other across a coffee table in the middle of the room.

"Sit down," Dave instructed him, running into the kitchen for more supplies. He emerged a few minutes later with his arms full of bottles and Doritos.

"Um, I don't really drink?" David said.

"Oh, no problem." Dave ran back into the kitchen, returning with about eight kinds of soda and bottled water, and even more chips.

David was starting to get weirded out by how enthusiastic Dave was, watching him pull a keyboard out from a cupboard and setting it up in front of David, before finally sitting himself down with his guitar. David could see Dave fiddling nervously with the tuning pegs. He laid his hand gently on the keys and picked out half a scale before pulling his hand back and folding it onto his lap.

"So, um. Do you have anything?"

Dave looked up from the pegs. "I have a title."

"Oh, okay. What is it?"

"‘Way Back into Love’."

David wrinkled his nose. "That's kind of limiting."

Dave shrugged apologetically. "I didn't pick it."

David grabbed a can of Pringles and peeled the foil off carefully. "And it has to be something _Idol_ -y."

"Yeah. But they asked me, so it probably doesn't have to be _too Idol_ -y. I mean, Michael promised they didn't want climbing mountains or breaking through barriers, or like, life-changing moments or any shit like that."

"Okay. Um, how do you want to start?" David asked.

"I don't know. How do you want to start?"

"Well, like, lyrics or music first, or what?"

Dave fiddled with his guitar some more. "Well, we have a title, so maybe the chorus?" He looked down and scratched the back of his head. "I don't know, it's been a while since I've done this."

"Well, what's it about?"

"Love, I suppose."

"Oh." David looked down at his hands again, blushing. "I probably won't be much help with that."

Dave looked up, something unusual playing across his face. "You've never been in love?"

David fiddled with his cuffs for a second. "Um, not like, properly? I don't think. Not at all, really."

"That's too bad."

"I guess? I'm fine though." David blushed again.

"Doesn't mean you can't write about it though. I mean, just because you've never been..."

"Do you have any ice-cream?" David cut Dave off mid-sentence.

"Yeah, I think? In the freezer." Dave gestured towards the kitchen, slightly confused.

"Can I have some?"

"Help yourself."

"Thanks." David jumped to his feet and shuffled into the kitchen. "Where are your glasses?"

"Glasses? Cupboard above the sink." Dave got to his feet and followed David into his kitchen. "Why do you need a glass for ice-cream?"

David was spooning vanilla ice-cream into a tall glass when Dave walked in, and David jumped and nearly knocked his glass over. 

"Um, it's kind of silly, but when I was younger," he bent down to pull some Coke out of the fridge, "when I was younger, and I had a test, my mom would make these for me when I was studying. Then when I was in college, I used to have them when I was staying up all night on papers and stuff."

He poured the Coke into the glass carefully so it wouldn't fizz over and stood back while it settled.

"Can I have one?" Dave asked.

"Of course!" David reached for another glass and started scooping out ice-cream. "Can you get some spoons?"

They gathered their glasses and spoons and walked back into the lounge, laughing about something small. But they'd barely sat back down when the feeling shifted back into the heavy song-writing mood they'd only just escaped.

"I'm sorry," David said.

Dave flinched. "Don't be, please. I mean, this isn't your fault, I just threw this at you. I'm supposed to be the professional."

"What did you use to do when you wrote before?"

"I never really had to write to a brief before. Usually Neal or I would come up with something small to begin, and we'd just work on it from there."

"The two of you wrote all the songs together?"

Dave was staring down at his fingers again strumming random, unconnected chords. "Most of them, yeah. Before I left."

"Why did you leave?"

Dave's fingers skidded off the strings and hit the body of the guitar with a dull thud. 

David panicked slightly. "I'm sorry! You don't have to say anything if you don't..."

"No." Dave cut him off, "no, it's okay. I mean, I'm the one who dragged you into all of this. I should..."

He set the guitar down carefully and picked his glass up, swirling the contents around for a moment. David was about to start talking when he opened his mouth.

"Neal and I... we were together. Like _together_ together, for ages, before the band even started. And the first album did well, Andy joined, the second album did really well. And we were young and stupid and happy and... and making out with fans’ boyfriends at after-parties, apparently." Dave smiled ever-so-slightly. "But then Neal... He decided the band was more important than whatever we were, and he broke up with me just as the tour ended. I guess he was hoping I'd be over it by the time we went back into the studio, but... I wasn't. And he just expected me to get on with it, and write the album, and act like nothing had changed. I couldn't reconcile how I felt about him with how he now felt about me, with still writing together. So most of the time we just spent screaming at each other, and the only material we had was stuff we'd written on tour, and then one day I felt like everything I did would just provoke some passive-aggressive bullshit from him, so I walked out the door."

Dave trailed off, staring into the bottom of his glass. "I thought he'd come after me. But instead Andy moved up to lead vocals, they wrote and released 'Abdication', and... you know the rest."

He looked up and caught David's eye, smiling again, but it didn't reach his eyes. 

"What about you? What did you do?" David asked.

"Lots of drugs, mainly. And sex. And a solo album, which we're not going to talk about, and neither did anyone else, really. And then my agency handed me off to some random newcomer, and that's how I met Michael. And he pretty much bitch-slapped me back to being a functioning member of society. And now I mainly do session work for people who can't play their own instruments, and the occasional school reunion or embarrassing nostalgia TV show."

David finished his soda and looked at Dave, who smiled again, a little wider this time.

"Sorry. Usually it takes a few more drinks before I'm dumping all this on someone."

"No, it's okay." David said. "I mean, everyone knows what it's like to live with a shadow overhead."

David stopped short and grabbed one of the notebooks Dave had laid out and started scribbling furiously and mumbling. Dave's face lit up when he realised David was counting time against the chair arms as he wrote.

Maybe they could get the song after all.

– – –

>   
> _While the label and both artists maintain the split was down to 'creative differences', sources close to the band say otherwise. "Everyone knows," claims a friend who worked on the last tour before the break-up, "those two were always fighting or fucking. It was all going to crash apart eventually. But no one was more surprised than me that Neal didn't go after him." And while the break-up was tough, even more anonymous sources claim it was really Neal's rumored new relationship with Andy that pushed Dave over the edge._
> 
> Excerpt from 'The Totally Unofficial, 100% Unauthorised Biography of Midwest Kings', (2007)

– – –

Morning rolled around and they were stuck again. After David's sudden burst of creativity they'd come up with another two lines, and hit a standstill. As the sun started shining through the blinds, Dave looked up from where he'd dozed off against his chair arm to find the other chair empty.

"David?"

No answer. Dave started to panic. They had less than 36 hours to finish the song, and if David had left...

"David?!"

"Yeah?" David's head emerged from the kitchen.

"Shit, man, I thought you'd left."

"Um, I'm sorry?" David looked back into the kitchen. "I was trying to find some breakfast."

"Yeah, you're probably not going to have much luck in there."

"Oh." David's face fell. "I'm really hungry."

"David, we need to get the song done."

"I know, I know... But I've only had chips and ice-cream since yesterday, and I think if I don't eat something soon I might like, pass out, or something."

"Once we've finished the song, I will take you anywhere in the city and we can eat."

"Unless you want a song about noodles or cereal, I think..." David's stomach rumbled loudly, cutting him off. He blushed furiously and covered his stomach with his hand, as if that would hide anything, and turned towards the door. "Um, I'll be right back?"

"Wait, wait..." Dave grabbed the notepad off the table and ran after him. "Okay, we'll go get breakfast, but we'll need to keep working."

"Thanks," David smiled brightly as Dave called the elevator, and accepted the pad of paper he thrust into his hands."

They both blinked from the sun when they stepped onto the pavement, and Dave laid his hand gently on David's shoulder to guide him down the street.

"I know a place near by. We'll get you loaded up on syrup and finish the song."

Dave was carefully steering them towards the café as David's eyes switched back and forth between the paper and the street in front of them. Suddenly, Dave found himself alone and turned to find David frozen to the spot, covering his face with his notepad. After a second, he seemed to shake himself free and moved to catch up with Dave, blushing and avoiding eye contact when he realised Dave was staring at him. 

Dave walked back to intercept him, looking around for a possible source. "What was that about?"

"Nothing, um, nothing? I thought I saw someone I um, knew, but it was just a photograph, so it's nothing. Let's go eat?"

He tried to hurry away but Dave caught him. "Don't even think that's a good enough answer. And anyway, I need you to be calm and centered for writing, so have at it. Why'd you get so jumpy?"

David gestured at the window of the bookshop they were standing beside. "You know who he is?"

"Simon Cowell? The composer? Of course I've heard of him."

"I um, kind of know him?"

David's eyes were glued to the sidewalk, so he didn't see Dave raise an eyebrow before he gently grabbed his arm and guided him swiftly into a café half a block away. The waitress took their order almost immediately, and as soon as she'd left the table Dave reached across and tilted David's face up to make eye-contact.

"Alright, spill."

"Dave..."

"C'mon, I told you my secrets. And you definitely need to vent if you're going to be back in love-song territory by the time we're done eating."

David looked back down at the table before he started talking.

"So, um. I wasn't always planning on being an accountant. When I got to UCLA first I was studying music, and Simon was on the faculty. I met him at the department Christmas party, and um, we kind of became, like, a thing?"

Anyone else, and he probably would have laughed, but Dave knew he could probably give up entirely on David's help in that case, and managed to restrain himself.

"And then like, maybe five months later, and it was just after finals, so I hadn't seen him in a few weeks, and I told him I was thinking of switching majors from vocal performance to composition. And I was, um, really nervous about telling him, because I didn't want him to think that I was like, using him, or expecting him to help me or something. But he just kind of looked at me, like he was pitying me or something, and told me that trying to transfer was pointless because there's no way I'd be accepted, and that I almost hadn't even been accepted to the department at all, and then he just left. So, I was kind of, you know, for a while, but then I figured that he um, really knows what he's talking about and I switched my major to something more, um, practical."

He paused for a second and fiddled with his glass.

"I was going to move back home after I finished, but my roommate knew Jason, who needed some help because his business manager was away, and it was only supposed to be for a couple of weeks, but then it turned out he wasn't coming back, and Jason kept forgetting to hire someone new, so I kind of stuck around."

They paused as their waitress set their breakfast down. David started carefully cutting his food up before he continued. 

"And that was all fine, but then his autobiography came out, and it's full of stories about how understanding his partner is about his weakness for um, 'beautiful but talentless undergrads', and he doesn't really mention me by name or anything, but there's a part that I'm pretty sure..."

He trailed off and started eating.

"Is that why you've avoided touching the keyboard like it's going to kill you?"

David blushed again, looking up from his plate. "Was it that obvious?"

Dave smiled gently. "Just a little."

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's not your fault. But you can't let some asshole stop you from doing something you love."

"He's not an... Not really. I mean, he's the whole reason I went to UCLA, because I loved his music. I mean, how would you feel if..." David searched his memory for a potential name, "–Kurt Cobain or someone said you were terrible?"

"Well, Kurt Cobain is dead. And I'll have you know that Dave Navarro spit on me at Lollapalozza once, though I can't be sure that was a comment on my music."

David looked down at his plate again. "Dave..."

"Hey." Dave reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "I get it, I do. And I really wish I could be calm and supportive right now..." He glanced down at his watch.

"But we have 'til tomorrow night to finish the song?"

Dave grinned apologetically. "Pretty much."

David smiled back and finished his last bites of french toast. "It's fine."

– – –

>   
> _"No two ways about it. The anticipated solo debut from former Midwest Kings front-man Dave Cook is just_ bad _."_
> 
> review of 'Cook' in Rolling Stone, (2006)

– – –

Back at the apartment, Dave turned on the coffee machine and boiled the kettle for tea and they set to writing.

"So, we have the first three lines. What comes next?"

David tapped his fingers against the edge of the keyboard. "Well, it's about moving forward, right? So you're moving to the future, but it starts off with how you are now? So maybe you should say why you're there? Like you're living in the past, or something?"

Dave strummed out a few bars. "Living in the past... Doesn't quite fit right."

"How about 'Stuck in the past?'"

"That works. Though maybe 'stuck' is too passive? How about trapped?"

David tapped out the words against the chair arm. "Yeah, trapped works."

"Okay, so how about this; 'Trapped in the past, why can't I just move on?"

"No, that won't work. The rest of the song is a statement, you can't just ask a question there." David scratched the back of his head. "How about, 'I can't move...' No, that's not the right beat. Try 'I just can't seem to move on."

Dave tried the line, and smiled. "That's great."

"Try the whole thing."

Dave picked up a plec and started playing the song properly.

"I've been living with a shadow overhead  
I've been sleeping with a cloud above my bed  
I've been lonely for so long  
Trapped in the past,  
I just can't seem to move on."

He looked up to find David regarding him strangely. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just... I didn't realise you had such a nice voice." 

It was Dave's turn to blush. "But it works?"

"Yeah, it's really good."

A few hours later, Dave ordered them lunch. They had to suspend writing as they ate, and David had to wrestle the TV remote away from Dave.

"You can't watch the top 3!"

"Why not? I just want to see who I'm writing for."

"But what if you decide you like one better and write the song to suit them more?"

"Don't you trust me?" Dave asked.

"It won't be your fault! What if it's your subconscious?"

"So, you trust me, but not my subconscious?"

"Exactly," David said.

Dave surrendered the remote. "Fine."

They hit a snag later, and spent nearly an hour on a single line, eating pizza over their notes as they kept working through dinner.

David wiped his hand carefully on a napkin. "Well, what if you moved through the subdominant to the dominant?"

Dave looked up, distracted. "Hmm?"

"Just, um, move to the fifth from below."

Dave strummed out the change. "Cool."

At 2 am, Dave wandered into the kitchen for some water, and returned to find David curled up tightly in his armchair, crumpled notepaper clutched in his hands. Dave smiled fondly and retrieved a blanket from the linen closet, tucking it around David before laying out on the couch.

When he woke up the next morning, he found David nibbling carefully on some leftover pizza and scribbling furiously.

"I think I have the third verse."

Dave yawned and smiled. "Sweet."

"But I think we need to fix the chorus. It's still a bit sad."

"Sad doesn't work?"

"It might, maybe, if it was just you? But if it's for _Idol_ , then I think it needs to be a little more upbeat."

Dave stood up and stretched expansively. "Just so long as we don't stray too far into scaling mountains and chasing dreams."

"I promise."

They finished the song just before 3 o'clock, and when Dave wrapped his arms around David in a celebratory hug he had to restrain himself from picking the younger man up and swinging him around the room.

David hovered around the apartment as David laid down the guitar track, smiling widely until Dave pulled him over to the computer and slid some headphones on him.

"What's going on?"

"I need you to record the song as well, make sure they know it'll suit either of the guys."

"Oh my gosh, Dave. I can't..."

"David, you were a vocal performance major at UCLA. I know you can sing."

"But I haven't in..."

"You hadn't written a song in years either." Dave cut him off. "But look at you now."

"Dave..."

"Please?" Dave clasped his hands together in an elaborate mock-beg, and David couldn't help but smile.

"Can you, um... Can you not watch?"

"I have to listen in." Dave pointed out.

"No, I know. But just, face the wall or something?"

Dave looked at him quizzically for a second before shrugging minutely. "Sure."

He turned to face away from David and started the recording, gesturing backwards at David to start singing.

When he'd finished, Dave turned around and stared at him for a second, until David's face was bright red and he was looking everywhere but at the other man.

"What?"

"You can sing."

"Um, I guess? I haven't..."

"I mean, you can _really_ sing."

David stood up hurriedly and tried to run back into the other room, but Dave grabbed his arm and pulled him in close.

"Not so fast, man. I still need some piano."

"Dave..."

"Hush. You get this done, and I'll take you to dinner in the most expensive place I can afford."

David wriggled free from his grasp and sat down behind the keyboard obstinately. "Fine."

"Smile, David. You can't play love songs through a scowl."

They dived into a taxi towards the _Idol_ offices just as it started to rain, and sat in traffic for what felt like forever, drumming their nervous feet against the cab floor as they inched closer and closer to the building. When they arrived the building was emptying and they stood in the lobby for a few minutes while Dave struggled to remember who they had to speak to. He gave up after a few minutes and rang Michael, and Dave could practically hear Michael rolling his eyes down the phone as he directed them to the right office. 

Mr. Smith stuck his head out of the room and took them both in.

"David Cook?"

"Yes, this is me. Again. And this is David Archuleta, my song-writing partner."

The man regarded David for a split second, before nodding sharply and holding his hand out.

"You have the song?"

"Yes, it's here. I mean, it's just knocked together at home, with me or David on vocals, but..."

He trailed off as the man's assistant appeared behind him wordlessly and pulled out a discman and headphones, playing the track for him.

Everyone in the waiting area was completely still for the six minutes it took to cycle through the song twice. The man pulled his headphones out, handed them to his assistant while exchanging a series of glances Dave couldn't decipher, before nodding slightly less sharply at the two of them and striding down the hallway.

They looked worriedly at each other until the assistant smiled. 

"Congratulations."

Dave grinned. "We got it?" 

"Indeed." The assistant looked at his clipboard before gesturing for them to leave. "If you'd like to attend the first rehearsal, it's Sunday morning."

He turned on his heel, leaving them alone in the corridor. This time, Dave didn't stop himself picking David up and spinning him around the hallway until they were both slightly dizzy.

"What do you want to eat?" Dave asked.

"What?" 

"I promised you dinner."

"Um, Thai?"

Dave left his arm slung casually across David's shoulders as he pulled his phone out.

"Mike? Yeah, we got it... I don't know... Mike, shut up for a second... Yes, you're great. Look, Mike, can you book me a table at the best Thai place in town? For two... _fine_ , for four." He smiled apologetically at David. "Em, as soon as possible? Thanks, man, text me the address."

He hung up and turned back to David, still grinning widely. When he saw a similar look on the younger man's face, he couldn't resist picking him up again and giving him one last spin.

– – –

>   
> _"I don't know what it is about them, but I find I can't help myself. Optimism and beauty all wrapped up in innocence. But never the talented ones, at least not any more. There was one a few years ago, with eyes and a smile so perfect they nearly brought me to my knees. But in the end, like all the others, he just wanted me to help him get ahead."_
> 
> Taken from 'A Life in Music' by Simon Cowell, (2011)

– – –

They got caught in a sudden downpour, arriving to find Michael and his wife Stacyhad already ordered champagne. Dave waved a waiter over so David could order himself a drink and relaxed back in his chair for Michael's toast.

"Congratulations to Dave, for hopefully proving that there is life after youthful stardom, however long it might take you to drag yourself there."

Dave rolled his eyes and raised his glass. "And to David, who has proved himself an excellent songwriter, if only an adequate feeder of fish."

"Oh my gosh Dave. You said that was okay!"

"It was okay. It's still damp, but it's okay."

" _I told you I'd_..." The end of David's sentence was cut off when he suddenly ducked behind his menu.

"David? What the hell?"

"It's him."

"Who?"

David kept his face hidden and gestured towards the bar. " _Simon._ "

Dave looked about wildly. Sure enough, Simon Cowell had just entered, and was leaning against the bar, surrounded by equally impressive-looking people.

"I, uh, need, um, to..." David jumped to his feet and tried to run away from the table. He soon realised that he'd have to pass the bar to get out and turned sharply towards the men's room, nearly crashing into three waiters and two other customers in his haste to hide.

"What the fuck?" Michael stared at Dave across the table.

David got up from his seat. "It's nothing, just someone he really doesn't want to see. I'll talk to him. Just order him _pad thai_ , and me _pla sam rod_ , we'll be back."

In the stalls, he found David pacing back and forth and chewing on his fingernails. As soon as he realised Dave had come in he buried his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry!"

"Hey, man, don't worry. I can think of quite a few people that'd have me doing the same thing."

David looked at him through his fingers. "Um, you don't have to lie to make me feel better. I know I'm being like, super-lame."

Dave squeezed his shoulder gently. "Like I said, it's fine." 

"I think I'm going to have to stay here for a while. Can you maybe um, text me when he leaves?"

"David, that's ridiculous."

David's face fell. "Um, I'm sorry?"

"Hey, don't cry." Dave pulled him into a tight hug. "You're not ridiculous, just the situation."

David sagged against Dave's chest for a few minutes before he started talking. "It's just... I thought I was fine. I mean, it took me a while to... after, but I was fine, but then the book came out, and I know I shouldn't have read it, but I did anyway and, and..."

He leaned back to look at Dave, his eyes shiny. "It said that he had no idea how someone so completely unsuitable was in the program, and he couldn't believe he was nearly taken in by someone who only wanted him for what he could do for them, and that the only chance I'd ever have in the music industry would be answering phones."

"Dude, you can't... You can't believe that. I mean, I've only known you for a few days, but even I can tell you wouldn't do something like that. And hey–" He squeezed David's shoulder again, "–you've already proved you can do more than answer the phones."

"Thanks." David pulled away and leaned heavily against the wall. "I um, pictured this happening. That I'd bump into him somewhere and I could tell him that he didn't manage to destroy my life, that whatever he said was irrelevant, because I was stronger than that."

"Well, now's your chance."

"What?"

"He's standing just out there. What better shot at this are you going to get?"

"But it's not true, not yet."

"Hey, almost nothing's every true the first time you say it. You just need to keep reminding yourself what you want, then one day it will be. You've just written what's almost guaranteed to be at least a minor hit, thanks to _Idol_ , and you've moved on from just being adorable to being proper grown-up attractive. And what better time than now?"

David pulled himself up slightly. "I can't, Dave. I mean, he's still so... And I'm um... And I look ridiculous. I'm all rainy."

Dave grinned. "Well, we can sort that out, at least."

He slid his fingers into David's hair, wiping away the excess water and messing with it until you could barely tell he'd been caught in a downpour less than twenty minutes ago. Then he grabbed a hanky from his back pocket and tried to blot as much rain as he could off David's jacket.

"Perfect."

"Dave..."

"C'mon." Dave rested his hand on David's back to lead him back into the restaurant. "I'll be right behind you. If it all goes wrong, just say banana and I'll whisk you away instantly."

"Dave, how am I going to say 'banana' without sounding crazy?"

"I'll leave that up to you."

Back in the main room, Dave threw a reassuring glance at Michael and Stacy as they crossed to the bar. A few feet away from Simon's group, David stiffened, but Dave gently urged him forward. Simon was in the middle of an anecdote, gesturing expansively mid-sentence when his eyes landed on them.

Simon raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, I'm terrible with names."

"It's um, David Archuleta."

Still leaning against the bar, recognition spread across Simon's face. "So it is. I'm surprised to find you in town. Thought you'd have toddled back to Utah by now, or is accountancy fulfilling all your disparate needs?"

Under his hand, Dave could feel David stiffening again.

"I... I..." Instead of talking, he ran for the exit.

Simon shrugged at his group, and Dave was surprised to find himself reaching out to tap him on the back.

"I'm sorry, can I help you?"

"Look, man, I know you don't really give a fuck about any of this, but it'd really mean a lot if you could just let him get this off his chest."

Simon raised an eyebrow. "So he's gotten under your skin."

"What? No, I just..."

"Look darling, I know it seems all perfect and nice now, but I don't even know who you are and I can tell you can do better. It's all going to end in tears and hysterical voicemails. That boy is more trouble then he's worth."

Simon was about to turn back to his group when Dave tried to grab a hold of his arm, but his largest companion, who he suddenly realised was probably a bodyguard, grabbed him by the back of his jacket, dragged him to the door, and threw him outside.

Dave sat on the sidewalk for a second, reassuring himself nothing was seriously damaged, until a pair of legs stopped in front of him.

"It's been a while since I've been actually thrown out of somewhere."

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I can't believe he did that to you."

"It's not a problem, man. I was happy to help."

Dave noticed the paper bag in David's hand. "You go shopping?"

David laughed slightly. "No. Um, I guess when we were in the bathroom for so long, Michael kind of figured something was up? So he got our food to go. The hostess gave it to me when I was trying to escape.”

Dave had an idea he knew _exactly_ what Michael had figured, and resolved to smack his agent next time he saw him.

He pulled himself to his feet. "Well, not that this hasn't been a lovely evening, but I think tha– OW!"

The second he put weight on his knee, Dave nearly buckled and David ran over to catch him.

"Are you okay?"

"It's fine, I'm fine. I think I just twisted it a little when I fell. It'll be fine."

"Um, okay." David slid his shoulder under Dave's arm and let the other man lean on him. "Let’s get you home."

Back at Dave's apartment, David settled him on the sofa before disappearing into the kitchen and re-emerging with an ice-pack.

"I didn't think I had any ice."

David held the pack up. "You don't. I found a bag of mini-vodkas in your freezer, so they'll have to do."

"Can you grab me one out, first?"

David rolled his eyes and sat down next to him, pressing the makeshift ice-pack to Dave's knee.

"I can't believe I did that."

Dave shifted slightly under the cold. "Well, for a given value of 'that'."

"The worst part?" David said, "the worst part is that I still care."

"Why? I mean, the guy's an asshole."

"He's no..."

"He is!" Dave interrupted. "He's a complete asshole."

He looked at David carefully for a moment. "I think you're letting yourself believe him, so you don't have to blame yourself for giving up on your dreams."

"Um, I don't know what to say to that."

"You don't have to say anything. You don't have to listen to me at all. You just have to care what you think."

There was silence as David shifted the ice-pack on Dave's knee.

"Thanks. For all this."

"It's nothing." Dave turned slightly to look into his eyes. "You're too young to have given up on dreaming."

David looked away for a second, before turning back and noticing a patch of scraped skin and blood on Dave's jaw.

"You've got a..." He reached up to check the wound.

"Ow!" Dave jumped back slightly.

"You'll be fine. Do you have any antiseptic?"

"I don't even have food," Dave pointed out.

"Then you're kind of stuck with it."

"You could always kiss it better."

David's hand on his jaw froze. "Um... is that what you want?"

Dave looked into his eyes again. "Definitely."

Blushing furiously, David leaned over to press a tiny kiss against Dave's jawline, before pulling back and looking away. It barely took a second before he felt Dave's hand slide over his shoulder and into his hair. David looked back at Dave, eyes shining with nervous anticipation, until Dave leaned in and pressed their lips together.

– – –

>   
> _user Princess86 asks: so r the missing tracks from abdication evr goin 2b released??  
>  Neal: Take it up with Dave man, he's the one blocking everything._
> 
> Excerpt from Q&A on MWK website, (2009)

– – –

On Saturday morning, Dave woke up crushed tight against the back of his sofa, his belt-buckle digging uncomfortably into his stomach. He'd managed to fall asleep in his jeans again. When he tried to stretch, he realised he wasn't alone.

David Archuleta was lying half-under him on the couch, arms wrapped tightly around him. Dave brushed a tuft of hair off his forehead, smiling gently until he heard his phone start to vibrate and he tried to extract himself from David's arms without waking him.

He finally managed to roll himself over the back of the couch and dove for his phone, grabbing it just before the ringing got loud enough to wake David up.

"What the fuck, man? It's early!"

Michael laughed. "Dude, it's half-two. And I can't help it if I'm concerned for your well-being, after you got bounced out of Saba."

"I'm fine."

"Why are you whispering, dude?"

"David's still asleep."

"Dude! You _didn't_."

"I didn't. Not quite, anyway. Wait a sec..." Dave walked out to the balcony.

"Well, high-five on whatever you did, anyway."

"Classy, Mike. Classy."

"Well, I hate to drag you away from whatever it is you're not doing up there, but you're working today. Just make sure you're all cleaned-up and ready by three. I'll pick you up."

"Aw, fuck. That's today?"

"Yep. See you soon."

Michael hung up and Dave groaned loudly, kicking at the balcony furniture.

"Um, Dave?"

He turned around sharply to find David standing nervously in the doorway, pillow-creases on his cheek and what looked like the beginnings of stubble rash on his jaw.

"Good morning!" Dave hoped to God he didn't sound the wrong kind of cheerful. "I'd offer you breakfast, but you know there's no food in here."

"There's um, still the takeout. We didn't um... eat it last night."

"As good as anything else."

There was an awkward stepping back-and-forth when Dave stepped through the door, trying his best not to rub up against David to closely or look like he was trying hard to avoid touching him. As soon as he'd shoved the boxes in the microwave his phone beeped again, a message from Michael reminding him exactly what time he'd be there. Dave groaned again and thunked his head against the fridge.

"Is something wrong?"

"I have to work soon."

"Yeah? Another reunion?"

"If only." Dave pulled the cartons of food out of the microwave and handed David his. "I'm playing guitar for Disney's latest starlet –Briana something– at an album launch in the mall."

"Briana Bride?"

"Probably."

They both dug into their food, avoiding eye-contact for a few minutes.

"Do you... Do you want to come?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, why not? It's not like I have any dignity left."

"I think you're dignified?"

"It's nice that you're willing to lie to make me feel better." Dave slid off the counter and gestured towards the door. "C'mon."

"Um, where are we going?"

"Not that you don't look lovely right now, but you have clearly drooled all over your shoulder, which isn't really an afternoon at the mall look."

"Oh my gosh, Dave! Why didn't you say something?" David twisted his head around to try and see his shoulder clearly.

"Relax, man. I'm sure I've got something I shrank in the wash in here somewhere."

Dave threw his closet open and dug around for a few minutes before emerging with a handful of fabric. He tossed a t-shirt at David, who turned to face the wall before pulling it on. Dave looked critically at his own jeans before deciding they could handle another day, and changed his shirt before flopping down on the bed to finish his food. David sat carefully on the edge of the bed and finished his own just as the phone rang again, signaling that Michael was waiting.

Halfway to the mall, David started shifting uncomfortably in the back seat.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just a little stiff. I think I um, slept weird."

Dave caught Michael's eyes in the rearview mirror and mouthed 'don't' at him before he could comment.

At the mall, Dave reluctantly waved goodbye and disappeared to wherever the rest of the performers were setting up.

"So." Michael turned to David. "Do you want to watch from the front, or hang out backstage with me and the rest of the cool kids?"

"There's a backstage in the mall?"

"Well, there's a designated backstage area. We'll be hidden by some blackout sheeting."

David looked over at the stage, the space in front of it was already crammed with excited teenage girls, and he didn't fancy his chances at getting close to the stage.

"I'll come with you."

Behind the blackout sheeting, Michael handed David Dave's coat and cellphone. 

"Here, hold these. You'll look like you belong here."

They were positioned at the same side of the stage as Dave, and they could see most of the performance clearly. Briana Bride was bouncing energetically around the stage as half the audience screamed at her and the other half looked like they'd wished they'd kept their kids away from the mall that day.

"So, what do you think she's on?" Michael asked.

"What?"

"Briana. There's no way anyone has that much energy."

"I think she's just um, happy? And young."

Michael looked at him for a moment. "Seriously?"

"Yeah?"

"You're too nice, anyone ever tell you that?"

"Yes. Like all the time."

On stage, Briana was waving both her hands at the crowd as she finished the last song and bounded off the stage. The band followed her with a good deal less enthusiasm. When Dave finally trudged off stage, he sagged against Michael.

"Never again," he said.

"You talk big, old man."

"Leave me alone."

"You'll be fine." Michael patted him on the back. "Now take the kid and wait for me by the car. I'm going to go keep things smoothed over with Briana's management."

"You know, I'm the rock star. You should be waiting by the car."

"Yeah, well when you have your own car then maybe things'll play out that way."

"Fine. Let's go, David."

Dave made them stop at Starbucks before heading to the parking lot, and gulped down his venti so fast that David was amazed when he was able to talk right away.

"I'm never doing that again."

"Why?"

"Because I hate it?"

David said, "But you don't." David said.

Dave turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. "What do you mean, I don't?"

"Um, I mean like, um..."

"Spit it out, man."

"I mean, you don't hate it, not really. You might like, hate the music –which isn't fair, because it's not that bad– but you um, don't hate performing? It's really obvious just from your face that you love playing music, and being on stage and everything. When you're working on music, you just look more alive than the rest of the time. And I don't know why it is that you don't make new music anymore, but if you love performing you should find a way to keep doing it. Even if you maybe don't like the music you're performing."

David looked at him again. "You're too nice. Anyone ever tell you that?"

"Um, Michael just said that like, an hour ago."

"Smart man, Michael." Dave slung his arm over David's shoulder as Michael approached the car. "Don't tell him I said that though."

Dave looked at Michael as he drove them back into the city. "So, did you keep things smooth?"

"I did. Luckily for you, the keyboard player was off his face for the entire show, so your particular brand of over-tired belligerence was barely a blip on the inappropriate-for-Disney scale."

"Good to know."

"So, where can I drop you guys? Home, or anywhere in particu..."

"Oh my gosh!" David cut Michael off. "I completely forgot the show!"

Dave twisted around in his seat. "What show?"

"Brooke's show! She's been taking art classes and the final show is on tonight! I'm going to be so late!"

"Can't you just tell her you were working late and you're sorry?" Michael asked.

"I can, and she'll be super-nice about it, but still..." David paused for a second, "but um, she might be okay about it if you came too?"

"Me? Why me?"

"You remember Brooke? From the Hilton?"

"Was she the blonde one, or the one whose boyfriend I apparently made out with?"

"The blonde one. But Carly's going to be there as well. Please!? It'd be an awesome favor. I'd owe you so much."

"Considering I bullied you into writing a song with me, I can't image how you'd owe me anything."

"Please?" David leaned forward in his seat, his hands clasped together.

"Dude, of course. Where does Michael need to drop us?"

"I think it's in Silver Lake? I have the address here." He pulled a crumpled page out of his bag and handed it over to Michael. "Thank you so much."

"Don't worry about it. I can always go for looking at some art."

Michael had to drop them a couple of blocks from the address, so they had to walk for a couple of minutes.

"How did you meet the two of them, anyway?"

"Why? Don't they look like the kind of girls I'd know?"

"Brooke does. Carly, not so much. And they're both older then you?"

David laughed. "Um, I met Brooke when I was a senior, she was running a homework club I volunteered at, and she and Carly had lived together since they were like, freshmen. I was supposed to just be staying on their couch for a little while when I thought I was just helping Jason out for a bit, but their lease came up right around the time I realised it was probably going to be a more permanent position, and I'm kind of nervous about new people, so they asked if I wanted to stay and we moved to a bigger place."

The arrived at the gallery, and David ran quickly inside, hoping to find Brooke before she noticed he was late. Unfortunately, he ran into Carly at the coat-check.

"You're l-ate," she sang at him.

"I know, I know, I'm so sorry! Has she noticed yet?"

"She has. And she's crushed."

David's face fell. "Really?"

"No, she's fine. A little worried, a little disappointed-" she paused for a second as Dave walked in behind David, "- but I think she'll find it in herself to forgive you. Hello, Mr. Cook."

"Hey Carly. And I told you already, it's Dave." He squeezed David's shoulder gently. "Shall we go in?"

Inside the exhibition space, Carly directed them towards Brooke's section of the show. As they approached her, her face lit up and she clapped her hands happily.

"You're here! I was worried there was something wrong."

"No, no, it was nothing. I just got a little busy and wasn't able to make it until now."

"It was my fault." Dave added. "David's been writing a song with me for the last few days, and time kind of got away from us."

It took Brooke a second to decide what to be more surprised by, but she settled on the revelation instead of the revealer.

"You wrote a song?"

"Um, sort of? It wasn't me, really. I was just helping Dave out with a bit of it."

"That's ridiculous." Dave slung his arm around David's shoulder again. "I couldn't have done it without him. He's fantastic."

If Brooke and Carly exchanged a sidelong glance at the casual touching, David most definitely did not notice it. 

"That's so awesome, David!" Brooke smiled.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Carly asked.

"Um, it just kind of happened? I didn't really get a chance. And I didn't want to say something tonight, because this is supposed to be your show."

"Still, David. You should have said something. You need to get better at bigging yourself up." Carly admonished him.

"I'm sorry?"

"It's not your fault!" Brooke insisted. "But we didn't drag you away from anything, did we?" She looked back and forth between David and Dave.

"Not at all, we're happy to be here. The song's finished." Dave assured them.

"Does this mean you're going to release more stuff?" Carly asked him.

"Probably not, no. It's not for me, it's for _Idol_."

" _American Idol_?" Brooke's face lit up.

"Yeah. You a fan?"

"She loves it," Carly said.

"You should come. Michael got me some tickets for the results show."

"Oh my god!" Brooke squeaked. "That would be so cool!"

"Cool, I'll make sure David gets the tickets. But I kind of feel bad talking about me right now, can you show me some of your work?"

Carly waited until they'd wandered away before turning back to David, her eyes as wide as they'd go.

"Davey, Davey, Davey. What have we here?"

"Um, nothing?"

"Mm-hmm?" She raised an eyebrow. "Honey, you might say that, but this–" she traced her finger along the stubble burn on his jawline "–this totally says something else."

David's hand flew up to cover the spot. "Um, almost nothing?"

"You'll have to do better than that, love."

"We maybe, like, made out a little bit? Or a bit more than a little bit? But that was it, I promise!"

"Oh my god!" Carly squeaked, throwing her arms around him. "That is so awesome! 21-year-old me is so incredibly jealous of you right now."

David stood slightly stiffly until she let him go. "Can you maybe not tell Brooke about this? Or at least not until the show is over? I don't want her getting distracted, and I really don't want him to get freaked out."

"Oh yeah? Is there something going on?"

"I don't know. I mean, he hasn't said anything. But he was kind of busy all day, so I don't know. But I don't want him to think I'm like, expecting something. I mean, I bet he does that kind of thing all the time."

"Yeah, but you're special," Carly said.

"Um, I'm not really?"

"You are. Totally." She insisted. "Now, let’s go look at Brooke's art."

Half an hour later, Dave caught David's eye and nodded his head towards the exit. Outside, he started looking for cabs.

"Is something wrong?" David asked.

"No, this is great. But I'm pretty sure I'm going to pass out if I don't get to bed soon, and we've got an early morning tomorrow."

"We do?"

"Yeah, the Idol rehearsal? We've got to go down and see what they're doing to our song." Dave said.

"Oh, you want me to come to that too?"

"Of course I do! It's your song too."

"Oh, that's cool." David glanced back inside, "I should probably sleep as well, but I should probably stay here until they leave."

"I hope I managed to get you back in the good books."

"Totally. If Brooke gets to go to _Idol_ then I think I'm in them forever."

"Excellent." Dave paused and finally managed to flag down a cab. "So, I'll pick you up tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Awesome." 

He was about to step into the cab, but instead stepped back onto the pavement and cupped David's face with his hands, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

He pulled back and smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah. Tomorrow."

– – –

>   
> _"Confirmed today after recent rumors, Dave Cook has indeed been dropped by his record label. No word yet on why, but the disappointing sales for his solo album can't have helped. We've reached out for a statement, but perhaps understandably, Cook has yet to be forthcoming. As usual, as soon as we know, you'll know."_
> 
> Ryan Seacrest on E! News, (2006)

– – –

David was waiting on the sidewalk the next morning when Dave swung by in a cab. He crawled in next to him, took in the giant cup of coffee clutched in Dave's hand, and made an educated guess that cheerful conversation probably wouldn't be appreciated for a little while. He whispered hello and Dave smiled gratefully. He'd finished his coffee by the time they arrived at the venue, and wrapped his arm around David's shoulder again as they stared up at the large building.

"So, why are we here, exactly?" David asked.

"So we can see how the song works, or maybe they might need changes or something. But mainly just because it'll be weird, and fun. Aren't you excited? I know you're an _Idol_ fan."

"Oh, totally! I just didn't think they'd care what I think."

"How many times do I have to tell you, it's your song as much as it's mine. Of course what you think matters."

He led them into the building, until they arrived at some practice studios in the back. Inside, they could see one of the finalists, as well as multiple producers for the show and the song. The guy they'd met before was nowhere to be seen, but the assistant with the clipboard was standing in the hallway and nodded slightly at them as they walked by, before gesturing them inside and whispering something to one of the presumed producers.

"So, you guys are the songwriters?" One of the producers asked.

"Yeah, I'm Dave Cook and this is David Archuleta."

"Dave Cook, eh? From that band?"

David could see Dave wince slightly as he answered. "Long time ago, man."

"Yeah, yeah. Good song though."

"Thanks."

"Joseph's about to run through his take, if you want to listen in."

"That'd be great."

They stood carefully behind the producer at the mixing desk as he started the backing track. David stood in confusion for a second as the intro filtered through the speakers, barely recognizable as the music they'd written. There was a shimmery, cheerful beat, and a much fluffier synth-laden melody, and when Joseph finally started singing, he sounded way too happy, like he was enjoying sleeping under a shadow, and when he hit the chorus, there were so many vocal runs David kind of lost track of the song. He glanced sideways to get Dave's reaction, but his face was completely impassive.

When the take was over, Joseph smiled brightly at them through the glass and David found himself smiling back as if by reflex. When they turned away, the guy who'd hired Dave was back.

"Impressive, yes?"

David was about to open his mouth, but Dave got their first. "Yeah, really impressive."

"Not that we didn't appreciate your more low-key version, but we feel this is more _Idol_."

David was kind of creeped out by the way the guy said 'we' in a way that seemed to say more 'I feel, and people are too afraid to disagree' then 'we', but before he could say anything else, Dave was talking again. 

"Yes, yes, totally. Way more _Idol_ , excellent."

"Very good." The man stared them down for a second, until a second producer turned to him.

"Needs to be longer."

"Yes." The man agreed. "It needs to be longer, by 28 seconds."

"Yeah, that's fine. 28 more seconds, easy," Dave said.

"And not just music, more lyrics. We need to fill some extra seconds, and the missing space isn't big enough for anything else, so more song."

"Of course." Dave was nodding along furiously while David just stared at him.

"Of course." The man wordlessly communicated something with his assistant before turning sharply out the door. 

The assistant stepped forward. "There's a pre-final drinks reception/photo-call tonight. You should be there." He handed them the address on a shiny piece of card and followed his boss out the door. 

Dave turned to look at David, but he just stalked out the door, leaving Dave to follow him.

"What?"

"What happened to 'no breaking down barriers'? What happened to 'not too _Idol_?"

"You like _Idol_." Dave pointed out.

"That's not the point! I like _Idol_ , but not everything has to be _Idol_ -ed up!"

"I don't see what the problem..."

"You can't like what they've done!" David insisted.

"Of course I don't. I hate it, but that's not the point at all."

"It's the only point. How can you put your name on something you're not going to be proud of?"

"David, it's a coronation song for _American Idol_ , not a real song," Dave said.

"It is a real song. It's a real song that means something, and whatever they've done to it has gotten rid of all that. And I'm going to tell them at the reception."

"You're not going to do that."

"Yes I am!"

Dave folded his arms. "Then you can't come."

"They invited me."

"They invited me and my collaborator. If you're going to cause trouble and not agree with me, then we're not a team anymore, and you can't come."

"Are you going?" David asked.

"Of course, I can't be rude."

"I can't be rude either."

"Telling them they've ruined something and stripped it of all meaning isn't rude?"

David ran to the edge of the sidewalk and waved down a cab. "I have to be honest, Dave. I'm going to the party."

Dave ran after him. "Please David, I'm desperate..."

But David was gone.

– – –

>   
> _"DAVE COOK IN DOWNWARD SPIRAL?"_
> 
> TMZ headline, (2007)

– – –

When Dave arrived at the club that night, he found Michael leaning against the bar.

"What are you doing here?"

"Please." Michael scoffed, "why do you think I do this, if not to get invited to cool industry parties?"

" _American Idol_ is a cool industry party?"

"Open bar."

"Excellent."

Dave gestured to the bar tender for a beer and a patrón, knocking the shot back immediately before turning back to Michael.

"Have you seen David?"

"Not yet, I figured he'd be coming with you."

"No, we kind of... Just let me know if you see him, yeah? I'll need to talk to him before..."

He trailed off when he saw David at the entrance, seemingly trying to find his name on the doorman's list. Dave crossed his fingers David’s name had been misspelled and the security were going to be strict, but after a couple of seconds he was waved through and scanned the crowd. 

Michael waved across the room to catch his eye.

"What are you doing?" Dave yanked his arm down.

"You said you needed to speak to him."

"Yeah, but I haven't decided what I'm going to say yet!"

"Dude, I thought you were supposed to be the grown-up in this?" Michael said.

"Michael, you've known me how long? When have I ever been a grown-up?"

"Fair enough. But you've got about... eight seconds, I'd say, before he's over here."

"I hate you."

When David got to them, he ordered a Coke and smiled carefully.

"Hi, Dave. Hi, Michael." 

"Hey, David."

Michael looked back and forth between the two of them for a second, before clearing his throat.

"I think I see someone I know, so..." he disappeared into the crowd.

"I'm sorry, about this afternoon."

"No um, it was my faul..."

They were interrupted by the man from _Idol._

"David. David."

"Hi."

"Um, hi."

"I hope you're enjoying the party."

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about the song..." David started, but he was cut off by Dave.

"It's great, but we can't stay long. We have those 28 seconds to sort out."

The man held his hand up to silence Dave, and turned his face incrementally towards David.

"You have a problem with the song?" 

"Not the song so much as um, as the arrangement."

"What's wrong with the arrangement?"

"Um, it's not that the arrangement is wrong, so much as it's discordant? I mean, the song is contemplative, and regretful, and..."

"The song is hopeful."

"Yes, it's hopeful, but it's hopeful in a specific way, and, we, um, I just think that the arrangement misses out why it's hopeful, and loses what makes the song different."

The man looked at David for what felt like forever, before minutely shaking his head.

"We feel this arrangement makes the song more _Idol_. And we've had great success with similar songs in the past, so we feel the changes are appropriate."

He stepped towards his assistant before turning slightly back to David. "But thank you for your input."

As soon as he'd disappeared, Dave turned to David.

"Okay, are you done now?"

"This isn't funny."

"I know that. That could have gone really badly, but luckily that guy is so used to people doing what he says he barely noticed you were talking."

"You should have helped!"

"No, I shouldn't have."

"Why not? You know I'm right about the song, you could have said something."

"Because I've been doing this for a long time, and I know that the last thing you want to do is piss off the money people." 

David looked around. "I wonder if there's anyone else I should talk to..."

"No." Dave grabbed his arm as he tried to walk away. "Look, you've said what you wanted to say, you've made your issues known, and it hasn't helped, so can't we just forget about this and go finish the song?"

"But it matters! You need to stand up for the music. I just don't want this to end up like your solo album."

"What?"

"Brooke has it. And I wanted to listen to it to know why everyone was so adamant you not write the song on your own."

"And?" Dave asked.

"The reason everyone loves 'Abdication' is because you can feel the emotion pouring out of it. But on your album, it's like you were so determined not to let people know what you were feeling that you stripped everything out of the songs that meant anything."

"But our song does mean something."

"Not if you let them play it like that! Why aren't you getting more annoyed about this?"

"Because it doesn't matter!" Dave threw his hands in the air. "Because it doesn't matter what they say about uniqueness and any of that. They've made billions of dollars releasing practically the same coronation song every year, and it doesn't matter how terrible it sounds or how many fucking rainbows are pouring out of it, we're not important enough for them to risk anything on something that's a little bit different. And it doesn't matter how good they tell you you are, or how many parties you get asked too, the people in the industry aren't your friends. It's just business."

"What is?"

"All of it. The whole industry. And it's better this way, everyone knows what they're getting into. You have something I want, I have something you want, there's nothing that needs to be done except getting on with it. No one gets let down when they thought it was something more."

David was about to say something when someone bumped into them, and he managed to slip away before Dave could catch him.

He ran after David to the street, and managed to follow him into a cab.

Back at Dave's apartment, they sat facing each other across the room again.

"So, don't feel pressured or anything, we have until lunchtime tomorrow, and I bought bread so we wouldn't have to stop for food."

David stared down at his lap and tapped his pen against his paper.

"Anything at all. Just the first thing that comes into your head."

Still nothing.

"Doesn't have to be special or anything. We can work with whatever you come up with."

David tapped his pen against the paper one last time before standing up.

"I'm sorry."

"What? No, there's nothing to be sorry about. Just sit down, and finish the song, and we can worry about the rest tomorrow, okay?"

"No, I'm sorry. I just can't do this right now. Maybe I'll think of something when I'm at home, and I'll..."

"No!" Dave cut him off, "we don't have time for this, we need to get this done."

"I'm sorry, I want to help, but I can't do this if I don't feel inspired."

"Fuck inspiration! That's not what this is about, I just need 28 seconds, and you know I can't do that by myself."

"I can't..."

"Yes you can! If you wanted to, you could do this so easily, but you won't. It's just like Simon said..."

"What?" David cut him off with a whisper.

"I read the book, because I wanted to be able to tell you that Simon was wrong, that he was just being an asshole, but he was right. He said you're too willing to take the easy way, that every time you had to pick something to perform you always picked the easy option, that you never pushed yourself enough, and now this! You let Simon talk you out of being a musician, you let me talk you into helping me, but the second things get a little bit difficult you bail!"

"I... I... I..."

"But it's only difficult because you're making it difficult! You've co-written a song that's almost done and you're refusing to finish because things aren't going the way you wanted it. But this isn't just about you this time. This is probably my last chance, and you can't expect me to just sit by while you act like a spoilt child and ruin everything."

David opened his mouth to say something, but shut it almost immediately and ran out the door. The second it slammed, Dave threw himself down on the couch and flung a cushion across the room.

– – –

>   
> _"And in the latest 'where are they now' news, former Midwest Kings frontman Dave Cook spotted laying down guitar tracks for Miley Cyrus's upcoming album."_
> 
> E!News, (2010)

– – –

When Dave arrived at the studio on Monday morning, he was still wheeling through excuses in his head. The man from _Idol_ (and Dave could not believe he'd forgotten his name again.) was standing at the back of the mixing room when he walked in, and Dave took a deep breath.

"Look, about the rest of the song..."

The man didn't even move his head. "It's impressive."

"What?"

"Your collaborator sent in the extra material this morning."

"Oh... Cool."

"Steven's just about to get to it."

He gestured to the studio, where the singer was just finished the chorus and leading into the new lyrics.

"There are moments when I don't know if it's real  
Or if anybody feels the way I feel  
I need inspiration  
Not just another negotiation."

The man nodded in approval and looked expectantly at Dave, who opened his mouth to respond before realising he didn't know what to say.

The man stared at him for a second longer, before opening the door. "My assistant has your tickets," and disappearing

The assistant appeared as if by magic and handed Dave two envelopes.

"Here are your tickets for the results show."

"And what's this one?" He held up the second envelope.

"That's the information for your rehearsal."

"What? My rehearsal? What am I rehearsing?"

The assistant raised an eyebrow. "You really need to keep in better contact with your agent, you know that?"

The second he was outside the room, he flipped open his cellphone and got Michael's voicemail.

"Johns, pick up your damn phone so I can kill you. Or yell at you, and then kill you."

– – –

>   
> _Seacrest: So I know it's a big night to night, but ever since a few raw instrument tracks from the missing songs were leaked, it seems like interest in them has resurged. And with the tenth anniversary of your breakthrough album coming up, any word on if we might finally get to hear those tracks?  
>  Neal: You know, I'd love to get that stuff out there, we're all for it. There's just one piece of the puzzle missing, but hopefully that'll fall into place eventually._
> 
> Red carpet interview, Grammys, (2013)

– – –

David walked into work on Tuesday morning to find Dave hovering by the front desk.

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you."

"Um, I think you've said everything."

"David, please..." He reached out by David took a step backwards.

"This guy bothering you, David?" A woman with a wrench popped up from somewhere.

"No, it's fine. Thanks,Amanda."

"Please." Dave tried again.

David checked his watch and pointed Dave towards his office. "You have like, two minutes."

Inside, David sat behind his desk and looked up at him.

"So..." Dave put the envelope with the tickets on David's desk. "Are you coming on Wednesday?"

"I don't think Brooke and Carly will give me a chance otherwise."

"Yeah, yeah... I really liked your extra lyrics."

"Thanks, Dave."

"And I'm sorry about what I said. I was wrong. We were both wrong, Simon and me. He's an asshole, and I'm a... I'm a..."

"Jerk?" David asked.

"I'd have gone for something a little saltier, but jerk works."

"You were right though, both of you. I'm not cut out for music, or LA. That's why I'm going back to Utah."

"You can't go back to Utah." Dave insisted.

"Yes I can. There are jobs there, and my family. And I won't have to worry about... Any of this."

"But I... I can't write without you."

David looked at Dave carefully for a few seconds before talking again.

"Um, haven't you realised by now you can't base your creative fulfillment around somebody else?"

They stared at each other for a moment before David broke the look and stared down at his computer until Dave turned slowly the left the office. As soon as David was sure he was out of the building he told Jason he was taking a personal day and went home, crawling into bed.

He barely left his room for the next 24 hours, even resisting Brooke and Carly as they tried to drag him to the couch to watch the final two on _Idol_. He finally got up on Wednesday afternoon, when Brooke shoved a giant bowl of noodles at him while Carly picked him out some clothes and told him they were leaving soon.

He curled up in the back seat of Brooke's car as the two of them chattered excitedly in the front seat.

"I thought you were too cool for _Idol_ ," he said to Carly.

"Shut up. I mean, I don't love it or anything, not like Brooke, but it's exciting! They'll be singing your song in front of millions of people."

"I can't believe you didn't even watch the final performances." Brooke said.

"It didn't really feel like my song anymore."

Brooke and Carly exchanged looks in the mirror, but they pulled up to the venue's parking lot before they could say anything, and they soon found themselves in the crush of people waiting to get in.

When they joined the queue, David pulled back.

"You guys, I don't think I can do this."

Brooke looked concerned, but Carly just rolled her eyes. "Nice try love, but we're not giving in that easy."

Once the show started, David managed to push his thoughts to the back of his mind. This year's contestants were good, and the top-12 group and individual performances wheeled by enjoyably until there were only one or two performances left before the reveal, and the prospect of hearing the re-arranged version of his and Dave's song again set off butterflies in David's stomach.

On-stage, Ryan Seacrest announced the next guest, and on either side of him, Brooke and Carly clutched his hands tight.

"Did he just say?" Brooke stammered.

"Did you know?" Carly asked.

"I had no idea."

A spotlight came up on Dave, alone on stage with his guitar, and barely a second after he started playing Brooke and Carly were clutching his hands tighter.

"That's a new song." Brooke whispered.

"Oh my god." Carly squeaked.

David shook them off and leaned forward as far as he could, just as Dave started to play, plucking out a beautifully spare melody and singing with a voice that sounded like it was only three steps away from cracking..

"It's never been easy for me  
To find words to go along with a melody  
But this time there's actually something on my mind  
So please forgive these few brief awkward lines

Since I met you my whole life has changed  
It's not just my furniture you've re-arranged  
I was living in the past  
But somehow you've brought me back  
And I haven't felt like this since before Frankie said relax

And now I know based on my track record  
I might not seem like the safest bet  
All I'm asking you is  
Don't write me off just yet

For years I've been telling myself the same old story  
That I'm happy to live off my so called former glories  
But you've given me a reason  
To take another chance  
Now I need you despite the fact  
That you've killed all my plants

And now I know  
I've already blown more chances  
Than anyone should ever get  
All I'm asking you is  
Don't write me off just yet  
Don't write me off just yet."

By the time David snapped himself out of it, Brooke and Carly were staring at him.

"Is that about y..."

"I have to go!" He cut Brooke off as he turned and battled through the crowd of fans, trying to make it down to the front. It took him a few minutes to find the stage door, and the security guard looked him up and down dismissively.

"And you are?"

"David Archuleta. I wrote the song."

The guard looked at his clipboard. "I don't see you on my list."

David's face fell. "Please, you have to let me back there."

"If your name's not on the list, I can't let you back here."

Suddenly, the assistant appeared. "He's on my list."

The security guard shrugged and waved him through, and the assistant pointed David toward the right side of the stage. After a few seconds of running, he found Dave, slouched against some scaffolding with his eyes closed.

On-stage, Joseph and Steven were standing next to Ryan Seacrest, their arms tight around each other.

"Dave?"

Dave's eyes snapped open and he pulled himself upright. "David."

"That song was..."

"I know, but it was the best I could do on my own. You would have made it better."

"No, it was... It was perfect."

David missed the announcement of the winner because Dave's hands were cupping his face and Dave was leaning in to kiss him. But right before their lips touched he heard the intro start and pulled back slightly.

"You got them to change it back?"

"Steven and Joseph convinced them to let them try it the original way, provided they didn't run over in the studio."

"So you convinced Steven and Joseph."

"I just had to convince Steven. It seems Steven can convince Joseph of anything."

His head still nestled in Dave's hands, David glanced at the stage. He still couldn't tell who'd won, because whoever wasn't singing still had his arms wrapped tightly around whoever was, and at this distance it was hard to tell them apart. After a couple of seconds, Dave gently nudged his face back so he was staring into David's eyes again.

"Thank you."

"For what?" David asked.

"For this. For everything. Just thank you."

And he pulled David's face up towards his, and they were kissing.

It was perfect.

– – –

>   
> _"So they say you only get one shot at the big time, but Dave Cook seems determined to prove them wrong. Fresh from the long-awaited release of Midwest King's lost tracks, he finds himself on the road with his former bandmates again, this time as the opening act on their national tour, along with new collaborator David Archuleta. Word on the street is the new material will make everyone forget the last album ever happened, and who knows, we might get to see Dave and Neal sharing a stage again when they almost definitely break out tracks from the 'Forgotten Ep'. One thing's for certain though, whatever it is that Archuleta's done for him, Dave better pray he doesn't lose him. No one wants a repeat of 'Cook'._
> 
> Rolling Stone, (2014)


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